


All I Want (The Make My Wish Come True Remix)

by Elveatas (Ricecake)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Era, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Post-Magic Reveal, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 15:53:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19771495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ricecake/pseuds/Elveatas
Summary: It doesn’t happen often that Arthur takes Merlin to bed, but it’s happened enough times that it’s become a bad habit. And it's a habit that Merlin is finally trying to break.





	All I Want (The Make My Wish Come True Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GeekLover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekLover/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Make My Wish Come True](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5548793) by [GeekLover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekLover/pseuds/GeekLover). 



> Dear Geekslave, when I first saw that I got you, I was very excited and knew almost immediately which fic I wanted to remix. I mean, I did check out your other fics, but I always came back to this one because I love it so much. Even if it’s set in canon times and I know you prefer modern AUs, I still hope you like it a lot. 
> 
> A thousand times thank you to the lovely mods for running this fest, and also thank you to my wonderful beta who shall remain nameless for now.

Merlin knows when he wakes up naked beside Arthur the next day that he’s fucked – in more ways than one, the soreness confirms when he rolls over to stare up at the canopy of Arthur’s bed. Normally, he doesn’t stay the night, but he must have been so exhausted yesterday that he fell asleep instead of absconding after the deed as he usually does, knowing Arthur won’t want him to be there in the morning. He glances over at Arthur’s naked back, wondering if he’s actually asleep or if he’s simply pretending to be to avoid the awkwardness of having to throw Merlin out of his chambers. Whatever the truth might be, Merlin decides against delaying the inevitable and gets out of the bed to search for his discarded clothes. When he finds them, he dresses quickly and leaves the room without looking back, in case Arthur has opened his eyes and they’ll be forced to acknowledge what happened.

Gaius is already awake when Merlin enters the physician’s quarters to take the stairwell up to his own little room for a change of clothes. He doesn’t ask Merlin where he’s been. He doesn’t even arch an eyebrow, so he probably just assumes Arthur had need of him in the middle of the night for some absurd reason as has happened more than once. His assumption isn’t technically wrong even if it wasn’t the kind of need Gaius thinks it was.

Arthur has managed to get out of bed and dress himself in breeches and a white shirt when Merlin reenters his chambers with breakfast half an hour later, which Merlin supposes is a small mercy so he won’t have to be faced with all the marks he’s made on Arthur’s body. It’s probably exactly why Arthur is already up and about, come to think of it. Therefore, Merlin doesn’t make his usual quip about Arthur actually being able to dress himself as he normally would have done. Instead, he places the breakfast tray in front of an equally silent Arthur, and then he goes about his daily duties while Arthur eats and they both pretend nothing has happened between them. Changing the sheets is going to be more awkward than usual, but Merlin will bear it. He’s suffered through worse things before, after all. Tomorrow, everything will be back to normal.

-ll-

It doesn’t happen often that Arthur takes Merlin to bed, but it’s happened enough times that it’s become a bad habit.

The first time it happened was two weeks after Gwen had chosen Lancelot. Arthur had been devastated and Merlin had just been trying to offer some sort of comfort. Somehow, the comforting hand Merlin had put on Arthur’s shoulder had ended up inside his breeches quite without Merlin’s permission, and the whole affair had concluded with the both of them naked in Arthur’s bed, stroking each other off.

And after the end of Arthur’s disastrous betrothal to Mithian, it took one week before Arthur had Merlin’s cock down his throat with Merlin returning the favour.

After Mithian, there was a beautiful, blonde lady who turned out to be a sorceress intent on killing Arthur, and after her there was a red-haired, freckled lady who eloped with one of the kitchen maids. And after her was another woman and after her another. Each and every one of those unsuccessful attempts at courting had ended with Merlin naked in Arthur’s bed.

The only time they’ve ended up sleeping together where Arthur hadn’t just come out of a romantic liaison, was when Arthur found out about Merlin’s magic during an ambush where Merlin hadn’t been careful enough to hide the golden glow of his eyes. Afterwards there was yelling, accusations, explanations and the spilling of long held secrets. And then, eventually, there was Merlin toppled to the ground, his breeches around his knees, Arthur’s tongue down his throat and Arthur’s hand on his cock. After they’d both calmed down and Merlin had realised Arthur wasn’t going to execute him, they’d staggered back to the castle where Arthur had ordered a bath they’d shared alongside a pair of splendid orgasms. And that was that.

Months later, they still haven’t talked about it. Arthur hasn’t legalised magic, and Merlin hasn’t started using magic in front of Arthur for the same reason. Instead, it has become this unspoken thing that hangs in the air between them, uncomfortable and damaging to their relationship in a way sleeping together has never been, and only ever mentioned through the odd comment referencing something that happened where Merlin’s magic was involved. Like a few days after their latest coitus, when Merlin brings Arthur his dinner, and Arthur says,“I’ve been thinking.”

“You know how bad that is for you,” is Merlin’s automatic reply as he places the dinner plate in front of Arthur.

Arthur ignores him, used to Merlin’s antics, and continues. “Do you remember when my father tried to have me marry Princess Elena? She’s still unmarried, apparently.”

“And?” Merlin asks, already dreading where the conversation is headed.

“I want to try courting her while she isn’t possessed by a Sidhe. I’m sure the result can only be better than last time. And this time our fathers won’t be breathing down our necks for a successful match. We can just take it in a pace that fits us. Let things happen the way they are meant to.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Merlin says and wonders at the odd feeling settling into his chest. He can’t quite name it, but it feels strangely like a mixture of disappointment, regret, and resignation. He scolds himself for feeling anything at all, because really, by now he should know better.

And so begins Arthur’s second courting of Elena. This time, when he’s actually trying, it seems to go much better. It also really helps that Elena isn’t possessed anymore. She’s less clumsy, more refined, but still crazy about horses which gives the two of them something to talk about. It also helps that she’s really nice to Merlin. Especially when he’s clumsy. When Arthur laughs at him, Elena instead laughs _with_ him as she remembers far too well what that was like. Her words always make Arthur look contrite, and Merlin loves her a little bit for it. There’s a part of him that can’t help but think that it wouldn’t be so bad if Elena becomes Arthur’s queen even as it breaks his heart to admit it to himself.

He needn’t have bothered with the heartbreak though, because a week before Midwinter, Elena decides to end the courting. She says that Arthur is very lovely but she doesn’t love him and both of them deserves to marry somebody they love. It was true the first time Arthur said it when he broke off their arranged marriage all those years ago, and it’s still true.

Arthur, grudgingly, agrees to the sentiment even as he informs her she would have been a great queen.

“Don’t let him step all over you,” are Elena’s parting words to Merlin, whispered in his ear as she gives him a long hug. He stiffens with realisation in her embrace, but when he draws back to stare at her with wide eyes, she merely offers him a kind smile and a wink. Then she turns around to mount her horse, giving him and Arthur a final nod, before she sets off towards her home, followed by her entire retinue.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin says back in Arthur’s chambers after Elena and her retinue have disappeared in the distance.

Arthur is sprawled out in his favourite chair in front of the fireplace, his head turned upwards to stare at the ceiling as if he might find the answer to his plight there. “Don’t be,” he says. “I should’ve known it was doomed to fail, although I had hoped for the opposite. I just thought that this time it might work out now that Guinevere wasn’t in the picture. I guess I was wrong.”

“Perhaps you should take a respite from courting for a while,” Merlin suggests and hopes Arthur will actually listen to him for once even if he doubts it. “It doesn’t seem to be doing you any good.”

Arthur sighs heavily, turning his head to give Merlin a sad smile. “Perhaps you are right. I am just tired of going through this all the time. Finding a queen is hard work, especially somebody I can also love. I know most nobles marry for politics, but I want what my parents had. Is that too much to ask for?”

“It isn’t. True love doesn’t grow on trees, as far as I know. But it’s all the more reason to take a break,” Merlin says with a cheerfulness he doesn’t feel. “And there are the Midwinter celebrations next week. I’m sure the festivities will have you back to being a right prat once again. Or at least you can get suitably plastered and forget all about courting for a while.”

Arthur snorts but doesn’t say anything after that, clearly too morose to be baited by Merlin’s goading.

-ll-

When Merlin comes back later that night to put Arthur to bed, it seems like Arthur has already got a headstart in the getting suitably plastered part of the plan. His eyes have that particular drunken sheen to them and his mouth is stained red with wine from the wineskin he’s had another servant bring up.

“Merlin,” Arthur says with a lazy smirk that tells Merlin all he needs to know. “Come here.”

Merlin doesn’t bother to hide the huff of annoyance that escapes him. “Really?” he says, Elena’s parting words echoing in his ears. “Don’t you know how to deal with heartbreak any other way?”

“Come on, Merlin,” Arthur says and gets up from the chair when it becomes apparent that Merlin isn’t going to comply with Arthur’s request. “I hate to say it, but you really know what to do with your hands. Perhaps it was all those lonely years growing up in the country with only William as company?”

“I hate to break it to you, but wooing with insults isn’t doing it for me.”

“I was trying to pay you a compliment.”

“Whatever you were trying to do, it’s not working,” he insists but it comes out feeble and unconvincing even to his own ears as Arthur steps close enough to grab Merlin’s wrist and pull him in, their chests bumping.

“Oh, I think it is,” Arthur says, voice low and seductive as he leans in for the kiss Merlin’s been longing for ever since he stopped kissing Arthur the last time.

“I don’t want to be your bedwarmer anymore,” Merlin protests right before Arthur’s lips can connect with his.

Arthur draws back to study Merlin’s face, his hand coming to rest on Merlin’s chest. “Your heart is beating so fast,” he states. “I don’t think you’re being entirely truthful. Do you really want me to stop?”

“I—” Merlin knows that his silence is damning, but the words are stuck somewhere down his throat. He wants Arthur so badly and it’s so tempting to simply give in, to let Arthur have his way with him. He swallows.

“I thought so,” Arthur says, self-satisfied. Swiftly, he undoes Merlin’s neckerchief and drops it on the floor before leaning in to pepper Merlin’s exposed collarbone with kisses that have Merlin’s toes curling in his boots.

Before he knows it, he’s wrapped his arms around Arthur’s waist in a familiar embrace, and Merlin’s belt is about to join his neckerchief on the floor. The hard clang of metal hitting wood startles him back into his senses, however.

“No!” He pulls back and away. “I mean it!” With strength backed by magic, he hits Arthur square in the chest with the palms of his hands and sends him staggering back a few feet, with a wide-eyed look of pure shock on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Arthur asks when he’s regained his balance, his voice edged with concern. “I thought you were enjoying this.”

“I can’t do this anymore,” Merlin admits, wrapping his arms around himself so he won’t reach out after Arthur. “I want something _real_.”

“If you want something real, then why have I never seen you courting anyone in all the years I’ve known you?”

The haughtiness of Arthur’s sentence, the complete conceitedness of it has Merlin’s features draw up into a vicious sneer and his hands fall to his sides where they clench into fists. “Believe it or not, _Sire_ , but it’s quite hard to find _the one_ when a rather significant part of you is considered illegal and trusting the wrong person can mean your head on the chopping block. That’s why so far I’ve mostly been romantically involved with people like me, but funnily enough most of them have ended up dead for one reason or another, or have, again, funnily enough, not wanted to stick around when they found out who I work for.” His words are not even really a lie. Freya did die because of her curse, and Gilli did leave because he felt staying in Camelot for a prolonged time was too dangerous for him. But it’s not the whole truth. Arthur’s doesn’t need to know that, however.

“You want me to legalise magic,” Arthur states.

“Of course I do. It would be lovely to be allowed to be who I am for once. Mostly though, I just want you to stop treating me like the dirt beneath your boots. Like a convenient fuck whenever it suits his majesty and a regular slave whenever it doesn’t.”

Arthur stares at Merlin, clearly taken back by the vehemence of his statement. Merlin glares back, his jaw locked with anger, refusing to back down or take back his words.

Arthur is the first one to look away. He swallows. “I’m sorry,” he says, though for what Merlin isn’t certain. For the ban still being in place? For unknowingly being the reason Merlin hasn’t found true love? For treating Merlin like dirt? It could be either of them. It could be all of them. Merlin doesn’t care to find out. He picks up his belt and neckerchief and leaves the room.

-ll-

Merlin takes to avoiding Arthur after that. He asks George to take over his duties for a little while, citing that Gaius needs his help if Arthur deigns himself to ask. Merlin knows he’ll see right through his excuse, yet Arthur never comes looking for him despite how he hates to be served by George. Which means that either Arthur is also avoiding Merlin, or he’s clever enough to understand that Merlin is still furious with him.

He can’t avoid attending the Midwinter feast, though, but instead of serving Arthur and the high table, he leaves that up to George and opts for serving the knights. They are his friends, after all, and he’d rather be spending the celebrations with somebody he isn’t cross with.

It’s still a miserable affair. Wherever he goes, he can feel Arthur’s eyes boring into his back, an inscrutable look to them he can’t decipher whenever he turns to see. It keeps him from stealing food off the knights’ plates, as he’d normally do, along with sips of wine. He’s painfully sober and hungry at the same time while being stuck with the continuously louder ruckus of drunk people. Perhaps he ought to disappear down to the kitchens for a bite to eat. The knights are likely too deep in their cups to notice his absence, although Arthur just might with the way he’s staring at him. Merlin finds that he doesn’t care.

He’s just about to make his escape, when Gwaine grabs his wrist and tries to have him sit down on the bench beside him. “Stop trying to be a bloody proper servant for once and enjoy yourself.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin notices Arthur straighten up in his seat.

“I was actually just about to leave,” Merlin informs him.

“Oh? Got somewhere better to be? _Or_ someone better to do?” Gwaine adds, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Merlin rolls his eyes and frees himself from Gwaine’s grip. “I don’t.”

“What a shame. What an absolute tragedy!” Gwaine hollers, swinging with his empty cup and nearly hitting his neighbour in the head with it. “Someone like you, Merlin, leaving the festivities so early and without good cause. I think we should rectify that immediately! So what do you say? Want to come up to my chambers for a quick tumble?”

“Are you disturbing the servants again, Sir Gwaine?” comes Arthur’s voice from somewhere behind them, and then there’s Arthur’s hand coming down on Gwaine’s shoulder in a firm grip. “I think I must be a bit drunk, because I am sure I heard you proposition my manservant, and that can’t be right.”

“Oh no, you didn’t mishear, princess.” Gwaine shrugs off the hand on his shoulder and turns around to better see Arthur and wink at him. “Merlin’s been a bit uptight lately and I was just kindly offering him a chance to let loose.”

“Is that so?” Arthur arches a haughty eyebrow. “Well, that’s a shame because Merlin is going to say no.”

“Merlin can make his own damn choices,” Merlin says, affronted even though he has no intention of starting anything with Gwaine. Especially not when he’s that drunk. Had he been sober, Merlin might just have said yes out of spite. And because it would be good for him to be with someone other than Arthur.

Arthur glares at Merlin, his nostrils flaring and his fist clenching. Merlin glowers right back.

Gwaine glances between the two of them, curious. “Is it just me or is there a lot of tension here?”

“If you’ll excuse us for a moment, Sir Gwaine,” Arthur says and it has the exact kind of not-pleasant edge to it that he uses in court whenever his patience is wearing dangerously thin. “I need a word with my manservant.” He grabs Merlin’s arm and drags him out of the hall and into the corridor.

“What the hell are you playing at?” Merlin demands once they are alone. He frees himself from Arthur’s grip, annoyed.

“I am saving you from making a daft choice. You can’t sleep with Gwaine.”

“I can sleep with whoever I want. It’s none of your concern.”

“Of course it is, you’re my manservant. Besides, I thought you wanted something real?”

“Who says I can’t find something real with Gwaine? And just because you’re my employer it doesn’t mean you get a say in anything that relates to my personal life.”

“I’m also your friend, and friends look out for each other.” Here Arthur sounds very nearly imploring. “I can understand if you trust him enough with your…” Arthur can’t even bring himself to say the words. Instead, he does a vague gesture with his hands alongside the painful expression on his face. “But surely you don’t trust him with your heart? Gwaine sleeps with anything that has two legs and walks upright.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I distinctly remember you telling me time and time again that we can’t be friends. That princes and kings don’t have friends and if they do, they’re certainly not friends with their servants. Or glorified bedwarmers in my case.”

Arthur clenches his jaw, probably cursing his past self for giving Merlin his current ammunition. “Even if I’ve said that, and even if I know I— that I’ve treated you horribly, I still care about you. And I don’t want to see Gwaine break your heart.”

“You shouldn’t concern yourself with whether or not Gwaine’s going to break my heart, because the truth is…” Merlin takes a deep breath to steel himself. “The truth is it’s already been broken by you. I know you didn’t mean to, and I thought I could handle it when I first came to your bed. But… but I want more, and you can’t give me that.”

Arthur’s eyes search his face as they widen with realisation. Then they soften with pity.

Merlin can’t stand being there for one more minute and leaves. Arthur doesn’t follow.

-ll-

Two days later, Merlin wakes up to George towering over him in his bedroom. “The king requires your presence,” he says with all the importance of somebody delivering a significant message. Because it’s George, Merlin can’t guess whether the summons is important or not, because he always sounds like that whenever he talks about anything that even remotely concerns Arthur.

George leaves the room while Merlin dresses, but stands right outside the door the entire time and follows Merlin out of the physician’s quarters and through the castle. Merlin doesn’t know if it’s because Arthur ordered him to make sure Merlin actually goes, or if George is just like that. He thinks it might be the latter.

When they reach Arthur’s chambers, George opens the door for him as if he were someone important.

Inside, Arthur is sitting at the dining table, a feast for kings laid out in front of him.

“I have brought Merlin as requested, your majesty,” George informs him as if Arthur can’t see that Merlin is standing right there.

“Thank you,” he says. “You may go now.”

George looks like he’s about to protest, but shuts his mouth at the look on Arthur’s face. He leaves with a respectful nod to both Arthur, and, strangely enough, to Merlin.

“What’s this?” Merlin asks, gesturing to the feast in front of them once George has left.

“This is breakfast.”

“Breakfast? Does George feed you this much every day?” He eyes Arthur’s stomach warily.

“Well, I was hoping I wasn’t going to eat all this alone. Have a seat.”

Merlin recognises a peace offering when he sees one. He sits down in front of the empty plate and starts to fill it with sausages and fruit.

“I hope you can forgive me for deciding to not follow your advice,” Arthur says apropos of nothing.

Merlin blinks, looking up at him. “My advice?”

“Of not courting for a while. It seems that in all my struggles to find what my parents had, I’ve managed to overlook someone right in front of me. I just hope I’m not too late.”

“You mean?” Merlin gestures between the two of them, at a loss for words, something strangely like hope blooming in his chest.

“Yes.”

Merlin’s smile threatens to crack his face in half. Arthur returns his grin, two spots of red high upon his cheeks, his eyes twinkling with joy.

“I was also thinking…” he continues. “Well, recently it has come to my attention that there are certain unjust laws still in place here in Camelot, and I was wondering if you might want to go over them with me?”

Merlin is out of his chair before Arthur can even finish his sentence. He nearly topples the both of them over when he throws himself into Arthur’s arms to place a messy, wet kiss on his laughing mouth.

-ll-

The next time Merlin wakes up in Arthur’s bed, Arthur is already awake, lying on his side, his head resting on his elbow as he smiles down at Merlin.


End file.
